letting you go (to find myself)
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: Muggle!AU. Lost under new identities and past traumas, Harry needs to find himself. Before he can, he meets Tom. He thinks his life is finally looking up, until he realises that the Tom he knows is only one side of a man with many.


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Challenges listed at the bottom.**

 **Word Count - 3299**

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 **letting you go (to find myself)**

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 _The cupboard was tiny and he was cramped up in an effort to not be seen. Sirius had pushed him inside when he'd heard the bang, warning him to stay exactly where he was no matter what happened._

 _Harry had tried to argue with him but the look on Sirius' face had pushed him into silence._

 _With the door cracked just a little, Harry could just see what was happening in the room._

 _Three masked men stood around Sirius, each of them with a gun pointed at him. Sirius lay on the floor in the middle of them, blood sliding slowly down his chin from where one of them had punched him._

" _You know why we're here, Black," one of them growled._

" _Nope," Sirius replied airily. If you didn't know him, you'd think he was completely relaxed and at ease, but Harry knew him and knew the signs of tension that were all over Sirius. His eyes were flashing with anger, his shoulders just a touch too stiff, and his nails were digging into the floor, like he wanted to clench his fist but knew he couldn't._

" _You've been making friends with the wrong company, Sirius," another of them sneered, his voice high and snooty. "Running around thinking that you can throw a spanner into our plans. It stops, now."_

" _I don't know what you're talking about," Sirius replied. "I haven't been throwing spanners. Hammers on the other hand…"_

 _That earned him a kick to the stomach and he winced, curling up slightly._

 _Harry's knuckles were white on his knees as he clenched his fists hard enough to draw blood when his nails dug into his hands._

" _Just shoot him and be done," the third masked man said, sounding utterly bored. "I've got other shit to deal with today."_

 _The first man's gun twitched._

 _The man with the snooty voice shook his head. "We're not here to kill him. Just a warning. The boss believes in warnings."_

" _Let's listen to the guy who's saying don't kill me," Sirius agreed. "He's got good ideas."_

" _And you've got a big mouth," the first man snapped. "I know the boss said we didn't have to kill him, but he also never said we shouldn't. Come on, Lucius, you know we're only going to be back in a few months because he's done something else!"_

' _Lucius', the man with the snooty voice, sighed. "Well since you don't understand the concept of not using names, now we don't have much of a choice, do we? Make it quick, Narcissa and I have got a function this evening."_

 _Harry didn't know what to do. He wanted to help, wanted to burst out of the cupboard and put a stop to this madness but his limbs were frozen. He couldn't move at all, not even when the gunfire rung in his ears and a low chuckle sounded out from one of the men._

" _Let's go."_

…

Harry woke up panting, tears already drying on his cheeks. It had been a while since he'd had that dream. Well. Memory. Nightmare. Flashback.

All words that would describe it, and yet none seemed to come close.

He pushed himself out of bed, restless and uncomfortable in his own skin. He was always the same after _that,_ and he knew he wouldn't settle again that night.

He walked into the kitchen, intent on making himself a cup of tea, and caught sight of himself in the hallway mirror. He was pale, not unexpected, but his reflection always caught him by surprise.

After Sirius… after, he'd been put into witness protection. They were keeping him safe for when the time finally came for the Death Eaters to stand trial for their crimes, and they'd _recommended_ he change things about himself.

Just in case.

Those in the house hadn't seen him, but that didn't mean they didn't know what Sirius' godson and charge looked like. He'd been living with Sirius for years, after all, since his parents died when he was only two years old.

At fifteen, with the loss of his last guardian, Harry had been thrust into a new family as their 'nephew' and told to change himself as much as he could.

He'd been forced to change his surname from Potter to Evans, though at least they'd allowed him to keep his first name, since it was so common.

His messy black hair was now streaked through with blue and much shorter than he'd ever had it in his youth, and he wore brown contacts to cover the sparkling green he'd inherited from his parents.

Now, twenty three and living alone, Harry wondered when he'd finally feel safe to be himself again.

 _If_ he'd ever feel safe again.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the witness protection contact still kept in touch with him, and though Harry liked the man well enough, he sometimes wished that he didn't. He didn't want nor need the reminder that he wasn't free to live his life.

He certainly didn't appreciate the updates on the building cases. It had been _eight years._ As much as he wanted justice for Sirius, and surely for the countless others the Death Eater's had hurt or killed over the years, Harry just wanted to move on with his life.

He didn't think Sirius would blame him for that.

Hell, Harry wasn't even allowed to go to Sirius or his parent's burial site. Even now.

He shook his head and put the kettle on. It was going to be a long day.

…

"Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron," Harry greeted, his lips tilted up in a smile. "What can I get for you?"

Harry stood behind the bar of the old pub, a towel on his shoulder from where he'd just been wiping down. He'd worked at the Leaky Cauldron for a little over a year and while it was just a simple bar job, he really enjoyed his work.

It was something that was his, that he'd chosen. He thought that probably made all the difference.

The man who'd just perched on a barstool at the very end of the bar was new; Harry hadn't seen him ever before. It was odd to get newcomers at the Cauldron. They had regulars of course, but it was so out of the way that visitors to the town didn't often find it.

He wore a grey suit, all sharp lines and perfect tailoring, and a forest green tie set around his neck. He was a handsome man, Harry thought. Older than Harry himself, with icy eyes and pale skin.

Harry wasn't quite sure what about him was so attractive, but there was certainly something.

"A glass of your finest whisky, one lump of ice," the man ordered, barely even looking at Harry.

Harry barely managed to not roll his eyes before he turned away to pour the drink. The man might be handsome, but he was clearly rude with it. Harry poured the drink and pushed it onto the bar in front of the man, accepting the money that was offered.

He handed the change back and walked purposefully back to the other end of the bar, cleaning and clearing as he did. If the man wanted anything else, he'd have to wait.

Harry pottered about. It was a slow day, and only a few people were in the pub. Still, it was relatively early.

The man at the end of the bar rubbed at his temple before he looked up. He gestured to Harry was a wave of his hand and Harry had no choice but to walk back down to him.

"What can I get you, Sir?"

"Another whisky, please. And… I apologise for my rudeness when I arrived. I'm having one of those days, but my behaviour was inexcusable."

"It's fine," Harry replied awkwardly, turning away to get the man's drink. When he returned the man offered him a charming smile.

"Tom Riddle," he introduced himself, holding out his hand for Harry to shake.

Harry shook it briefly before pulling away. "Harry."

Tom nodded. "Tell me, Harry, are there any nice hotels in the area? It appears that my business here might take longer than I anticipated."

Harry thought for a moment. "Rosmerta's is nice, that's just a few streets over. She's a lovely lady too. Aside from that, there are a few chain hotels in the next town over."

Tom nodded, looking thoughtful. "Thank you."

He left soon after that and Harry forgot all about him.

…

Except Tom came back to the Cauldron daily for the next week. Often times, he engaged Harry in conversation, especially when it was quiet. Harry found himself unexpectedly charmed by the man.

"I have to leave town tomorrow evening," Tom informed him. "I have business at home that I must take care of. But I should very much like to take you for dinner this eve, before I leave."

Harry knew it was a bad idea. Not only did Harry not date as a general rule, but Tom was leaving. What was the point of dating a man only to have him lead the following day?

But the look in Tom's eyes told Harry that he wanted to see what this could be; even if it was to be only one night as he expected.

"Okay. I finish work at six today."

Tom smiled. "Then I'll be back at quarter too, to collect you."

And he was.

The meal was both comfortable and exciting. Tom was so easy to talk to, and yet, at times, could be unapologetically arrogant. He didn't show off his obvious wealth and power and success, he oozed it from every pore.

Harry found he didn't really mind it.

"I'm sorry, Sirs, but we're closing soon," the waitress who'd been serving them all night told them, an apologetic smile on her face.

Harry blinked, then looked at his watch. They'd been there for _hours._

"Where did the time go?" he murmured, glancing up to find Tom watching him with a small smile.

"Come, Harry," he murmured, offering a hand to Harry. "Allow me to escort you home."

Nerves kicked in as soon as they were in the car. Harry directed quietly, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. He didn't know if Tom would be expecting to come inside or not; he wasn't sure which would be worse.

They pulled up to Harry's building and Tom climbed out of the car, opening Harry's door for him.

"I'm leaving tomorrow, but I'd like to see you again," Tom murmured, reaching a hand up to stroke Harry's cheek. "You mesmerise me, Harry."

"I… I'd like that," Harry whispered, closing his eyes when Tom bent to press the lightest of kisses on his lips.

Tom smiled and reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. "Put your number in there for me. I'll call you."

Harry did as he was bid, and with one last small smile, he turned away and went inside. He couldn't believe how well it had gone, and he was still reeling from the kiss when his phone dinged.

He picked it up, smiling when a number appeared on the screen. Clicking the message, he chuckled.

 _Goodnight, my sweet Harry xx_

Harry put the phone down and sighed happily. Maybe things were looking up.

…

Things were definitely looking up.

Harry and Tom's relationship moved from strength to strength to strength. Tom travelled to see Harry whenever he was able, and in the time they were apart, they often spent hours texting and talking to one another on the phone.

Six months in, and Harry was choking on the words 'love you' everytime the two spoke. They were true, of course they were, Tom was everything Harry hadn't known he needed, but something in him was hesitant to just let the words flow.

As he packed a small bag, he thought that perhaps, this weekend, when Tom took Harry to Cheshire, where he lived and worked, they might exchange the words. When Harry was introduced to more of Tom's life than what he'd seen.

Tom waited by the car when Harry exited his building. He was leaning back against the side of the car, sunglasses on and looking more casual than Harry was used to seeing him. It was a look that suited him.

"Hey you," he said, leaning up on his toes to kiss Tom in greeting.

"Hey yourself," Tom replied, wrapping an arm around Harry's waist to pull him closer for a moment. Then he was taking Harry's bag and throwing it into the back seat.

Harry climbed in the passenger side, putting on his own sunglasses against the glare of the sun on the windscreen. It was a beautiful day, but sitting in a car in the baking sun wasn't exactly Harry's idea of fun.

Still, he'd never been to Cheshire before, and he was looking forward to seeing more of Tom's life. It'd be an adventure, if nothing else. And maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to get those words out past the lump in his throat.

…

"Sorry, Boss, I didn't realise you had company."

Harry froze. He knew that voice. He'd had nightmares about that voice for so many years. Tom didn't notice, glaring at the intruder.

"I told you all to get on with it this weekend, Lucius," he sneered. "I'm _busy."_

"I am very sorry, Sir. The, uh, situation still hasn't been fixed though, and I thought we'd better inform you about it so—"

"What am I supposed to do about it, Lucius?" Tom asked, his voice icy and cold in a way Harry had never heard it before. "Just deal with it. I don't want to see any of you until I return this evening."

Harry watched as _Lucius_ nodded, offering a strange half bow before he left the room.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Tom asked, when he looked back at Harry. He was immediately back to the Tom that Harry knew; caring and concerned. "You look a little pale."

How many faces did the man have? Harry wondered idly as he nodded. As his life fell apart from the inside out, he forced himself to smile for Tom. "I'm fine," he murmured. "Unpleasant thoughts is all."

Tom moved forward until he was practically sprawled over Harry on the couch. "Anything I can help with?"

Swallowing back bile, Harry shook his head. "I uh, I think I'd just rather go to bed. Sleep it off, I feel a little sick."

Tom nodded. "Come on, sweetheart, I'll tuck you in. I can always drive you home tomorrow instead if you'd like to stay again tonight? I'll pamper you all evening and you'll feel better in no time."

Harry leant his head against Tom's chest, feeling like a fraud. "I think I'd like to just go home now. It sounded like you had business to take care of anyway, and I like my own bed when I'm not feeling well."

Tom stared at him for a long moment and then sighed. "If that's what you want, love. I'll get your things for you, you just wait here for me, okay?"

Nodding his head, Harry curled in on himself.

He just wanted to wake up from this fresh nightmare. He didn't want any of this to be real. He could practically feel his heart breaking in his chest and a single tear fell from his eye into the cushion beneath his head.

Why couldn't he just wake up?

…

Tom dropped Harry off, put off when Harry wouldn't let him stay. He promised to call, and Harry nodded and smiled as best he could before he locked his door behind him, leaning back against it.

His legs didn't hold him for long and he slid down the door, tears pouring down his face. He didn't know what the hell he was going to do.

…

Harry didn't sleep. He gripped his phone in his hand, occasionally opening it to look at two different numbers. The first was Tom's. He'd tried to ring a couple of times and Harry had ignored the calls.

The second…

The second was Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry's contact for the witsec programme.

He knew he should call him. He really did. He knew it was the right thing to do and he knew that he should.

But.

Immediately thoughts of a new identity and another wait for who knows how long for a trial and another decade of his life belonging to someone else. Could he really put himself through that?

Did he want to?

The thought of betraying Tom, no matter the right and the wrong of the matter, was abhorrent too.

Tom clearly wasn't looking for redemption or forgiveness for what he'd done; he was still doing it. He wasn't some tragic figure for Harry to 'save', or 'help'.

He was still the bad guy, no matter which way Harry's addled heart thought to spin it. And yet… He didn't know what he knew about anything else, but he knew he loved Tom.

Even if he hadn't said the words.

…

Harry stood with his backpack on his shoulders, staring down at the gravestone.

"I should have come before, I know," he murmured. "And I should have bought you flowers but… I didn't even stop to think. I feel like I'm betraying you by doing what I'm doing, Sirius, but I can't do this anymore. I can't keep hiding, playing pretend at being Harry Evans. Hell, I don't even know who Harry Potter is anymore, but I feel like I need to find him. I love you. I'll always love you. It's time to find myself again though. And to do that… to do that, I can't keep waiting for justice for you.

"I have to find some for myself."

…

"Harry!"

Harry stared across the airport at Tom. He wasn't overly surprised to see the man, because Tom apparently had resources like Harry wouldn't even know what to do with. Being the boss of such a powerful gang would give you that.

"Harry?" Tom asked, when he got closer, reaching out a hand that Harry flinched away from. "Harry? What's going on? I don't… I don't understand."

Harry tilted his head, and then reached into his pocket to pull out his passport. He offered it to Tom.

"Open it."

Tom blinked at him. "What?"

Harry waved the passport slightly impatiently. "Open it."

Tom took it with a frown, and opened it to the ID page. His eyes widened and he looked up at Harry and then back at the passport.

"Harry James Potter," he murmured.

"I was there," Harry said quietly. "When three of _your_ men shot my godfather dead. So you'll forgive me, Tom, if I can't be around you anymore."

Tom handed the passport back. "Have you told—"

"No. I haven't told anyone, and I won't. They put me in witness protection, and stole my identity from me. I'm claiming it back, but I can't do that here. I can't… I need to just be not here anymore."

"I… there's nothing I can say or do, is there?" Tom said.

Harry could hear the finality in his words and he shook his head. "By all right's, Tom, I should have phoned the police, but I couldn't. You have my heart, but you can't have me. Not now."

Tom reached a hesitant hand out and cupped it around Harry's cheek gently. "For what it's worth, you're taking my heart with you, wherever you go."

Harry leant into the touch for a few seconds and then stepped back.

"I love you," he whispered.

Then he turned and walked away.

He didn't think he imagined the soft, "I love you too, Harry," behind him.

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 **Written for;**

Disney; T1 - Use 'never judge a book by it's cover' as inspiration.

Book Club; Chikako - Pale / Tea / Mirror

Showtime; 9. Meeting with someone

Attic; 2. Having an important secret revealed.

Liza Loves; 12. A Memory or flashback

Arcade; C6. Suit/Grey

Lowdown; D3. "Let's listen to the guy who's saying don't kill me. He has some good ideas."

Basement; 5. I should have bought you flowers

Film Festival; 20. Airport

Around the World; First Step; Going to a new place

Pop Figure; Iron Man; 1. Unapologetic. 3. A Broken Heart. 4. Redemption

Cheese Board; Extra; Dried Apricots - "What am I supposed to do about it?"

Family Feud; Q2; 1. Touching someone

Birthstone; Aquamarine - "Where did the time go?"

Slytherin - Forest Green

365; 30. Perfect

1000; 106. Witness Protection


End file.
